


The Arrangement of Three

by ServantOfMischief



Series: Through The Times [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ancient Rome, Angst, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Lots of Angst, M/M, Missing Scenes, Not The Children Spin-Off, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Slaves, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), They are shit at communicating properly but what else is new, not beta'd we saunter like Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22238626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ServantOfMischief/pseuds/ServantOfMischief
Summary: Crowley doesn't trust Babylon, because he doesn't know her anymore.Aziraphale is anxious about the whole mess.And Babylon, Babylon has found the missing pieces she needs to restore an archangelA spin-off from Not The Children, where we delve a little bit deeper into their stay in RomeI do not consent to my work being reposted, or used in any unofficial apps like Fanfic Pocket Archive Library (Unofficial) or the like!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Through The Times [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600765
Comments: 30
Kudos: 56





	1. Crowley

**Author's Note:**

> I do not consent to my work being reposted, or used in any unofficial apps like Fanfic Pocket Archive Library (Unofficial) or the like!

Asiaticus has been dealt with, Crowley has been paid back for his losses, an arrangement has been struck with the angel Babylon, all his servants have been moved to safety and Crowley finally finds himself in his own bedchambers, just about ready to fall over.

But he doesn’t, because he is feeling an assortment of feelings he’d really rather not. With the exception of rage. He can do rage. He’s good at rage, he’s a goddamn demon, he’s all about wrath. The cup of wine in his hands finds itself flung across the room, shattering against the wall, and the dark red liquid coats the white wall, running down in rivulets, like the blood on the marble floors of his other estates.

“Fuck!” He snarls, one hand tangling in his hair viciously. The fucking human had the gall to send _gladiators_ to his estates, to _kill his servants!_ What the fuck did he do here, upside, when humanity has never once needed him to tempt them into evil deeds? Children, fucking children, _his_ bloody house! Babylon may have ensured that the Senate had utterly destroyed any future Asiaticus’ ever envisioned himself, but it’s not enough! Crowley wants him broken, he wants him _begging for mercy!_ And he will, he will, once Crowley gets his hands on him, he will _beg_. The pain the demon will put the human through will have Hell shake in their boots.

And then there is Babylon. How utterly horrible it has been to see her again, to see his former Guardian Angel look at him, and not recognizing who he is. Crowley knew what he was getting himself into when he spoke to the Almighty, when he chose to Fall for the sake of God’s Plan, for Her sake, for taking up a purpose She had given him the choice of avoiding if he so wanted, but he never thought he’d see Babylon down here.

He remembers a battlefield, he remembers Babylon’s halberd, dripping with gold, starlight tears trailing down freckled cheeks as she screamed and cried and _killed_. By accepting God’s assignment to him, he had ended the Great Divide early, and many, oh so many Fell, and Crowley isn’t going to deny that back then, when he was an angel, he had done it because he believed he would be able to carry that burden, and because he didn’t want to see Babylon fighting anymore. He knew that everyone who Fell would be forgotten, but he thought he’d be able to deal with that too, but to have his former Guardian Angel stand before him wearing an expression that told him clearly that she didn’t remember him, that he was simply a demon she has come across… it is such a hard blow to take.

Babylon had come to him when he was at his most lonesome. God had gifted him a companion, and then, suddenly, they were torn apart.

He takes a seat on his bed, rubbing a hand across his face as his thoughts wander.

He wonders how Babylon was after the Fall. She now stands with such a terror-inducing title as The Jury, Judge and Executioner. What made her earn such titles? Did she have a choice in the matter? She says she’s down here in an effort at keeping Raphael safe, but Crowley knows that there is no Raphael up in Heaven anymore, as he is sitting here, a disgraced Fallen now known as Crowley. But he knows he’s not fully here, that there is a part of him up there somewhere, he can sense that much, especially since he’s not felt whole since the whole free-style diving into a pit of boiling sulphur. He asked about it once, down in the Pit, but no one else felt the same way, and that was enough for Crowley to realize that it wasn’t the feeling of having had God’s love torn out of his core.

Babylon doesn’t recognize him, so obviously, she is no longer truly on his side, she is only on Heaven’s side, even though she claims not to answer to them, and with the titles she now carries, perhaps she doesn’t have to answer to anyone up there, except for God. As a Guardian Angel, she is below the archangels in rank, but the archangels harp a lot on Aziraphale, who is a Principality. Principalities outrank archangels, but they sure as hell aren’t showing that. But why is she reaching out to him, a demon, when she doesn’t know who he used to be before the Fall? By all rights she should be smiting him, not proposing to work with him. He doesn’t understand, and he doesn’t think that Babylon is out to pull his leg either. She never was particularly scheming, but more straightforward, like an arrow.

Of course, that might have changed.

Just listening to Aziraphale is enough to tip Crowley off that Heaven has changed since the war. Crowley remembers it all, how it was, and his memories does not match up with Aziraphale’s description of what Heaven is like now.

And then Crowley gets a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Babylon is now God’s own Jury, Judge and Executioner. She might claim to keep away from Heaven to avoid letting it slip where Raphael’s hiding, but what if she is also here because she caught wind of Crowley and Aziraphale coming across each other often, but never smiting each other? What if she’s read Aziraphale’s reports, but finds something rather off. Thwarting each other, but never actually taking each other out for an undetermined amount of time? Anyone could grow suspicious by that. Perhaps she is here, by the orders of the Almighty who can see and hear everything, to judge their relationship and then do a ruling?

And that is perhaps the worst feeling the demon is struggling with right now.

Not knowing whether he can trust his first and closest companion or not.

“How cruel can you be, God?” As always, She never answers.


	2. Aziraphale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale worries, as he's prone to do

Aziraphale, while in Crowley’s villa, is sitting with similar thoughts in the chambers he’s been left in. He can feel the surge of demonic anger in the air, which then quickly simmers down and dies away. He wonders what it is Crowley is doing now, as he had seemed rather calm during their conversation and wine earlier on, even _happy_ with the misfortune the human who had attacked his estates had fallen into. Well, Crowley is a demon, he is _supposed_ to enjoy such horrible things happening to humans. Aziraphale will not condone such glee for a human’s fall from grace, but he does not condone the killings of innocent children either, so he’s a bit torn in the middle when it comes to the topic. Still, even if Crowley seemed calm upon his return, Aziraphale knows that the demon is far from forgiving the human’s transgressions.

If a demon is at all capable of forgiving anyone.

Crowley is different from the other demons, but this… No, Aziraphale doubts that the demon is done with the human just yet, based on the way Aziraphale has felt love and loyalty saturating the walls of this estate, Crowley has actually put in an effort with these humans, and he will never overlook the way his work has been stepped on. He’s too prideful for that. Aziraphale’s just not sure what he’s supposed to do here, because the human is evil through his own choices, not by any temptations done by demons. Perhaps there is a chance at saving his soul, but will he truly be repentant if given the choice? Or will it all be a ruse just to escape the hard times waiting in store for him now? Because there will be hard times for him now, he will now experience himself the cruelty with which his people treat non-romans. Aziraphale does not think he’ll last very long.

If none of it is sincere, he certainly will not enjoy where he ends up next. Aziraphale shudders at the thought. Not every human soul can be saved, and not every soul deserves it either, but as an angel of the Lord it is his duty to try, isn’t it? But then Aziraphale thinks of the corpses of the young in the houses, the scared children, the poor girl who had, wounded, come running to her master to warn him of the dangers, crying and shaking and hurt. All of them are innocent, they don’t deserve the horror they experienced just because they serve a demon, especially when they only do household chores, make sure that the upkeep is kept, just as they would for any other master. Slaves have no real choice, all of that is taken from them, they cannot be judged based on who they serve.

Aziraphale, at least, doesn’t believe they should.

No, they are innocent, and the man who is the cause of their losses and now trauma, he chose to send his gladiators to kill as many of Crowley’s servants as they could, simply because of his own vain pride, because he felt slighted by the fact that Crowley could outbid him at every turn, slighted because Crowley made him feel inadequate. And he couldn’t take that. His foolish pride would not allow it, and his vain thoughts and desperation to appear _better_ than anyone else has caused such horrors.

No, Aziraphale thinks, there are so many who needs his help, who wants to be helped, who deserves it. If that man wants to make good of himself, he’ll have to make the effort himself. As Aziraphale knows all too well, he can’t help everyone, and he’d rather give his attentions to those who needs it and deserves it.

And Asiaticus does not deserve it. It’s hard to think, but Aziraphale has been proven time and time again that humans are not like angels, they are not simply _good_ , they have the opportunity to be both good and bad, like they were a mix between angels and demons. It is their free will, the angel believes. The free will gives them the choice of being either good or bad. Angels and demons don’t have that, and therefore they are simply good (angels), or simply bad (demons).

Aziraphale thinks back to Babylon. He only saw her once in Heaven, it was just moments after the Fall, where the angels were picking themselves up from the ground, trying to understand what had just happened. He saw her stand some ways from him, and that expression on her face as she looked upwards… He shudders to think of it. But the Almighty must not have been slighted, Babylon must have known that the Almighty is never wrong, because now the angel stands with some heavy titles, titles She would never bestow upon just anybody, only someone truly loyal. And those titles scare him.

She is The Jury, Judge and Executioner. She decides the fates of humans and demons, even angels are not safe from her eye. And as such, he and Crowley might very well be in danger, or they can fall into danger rather quickly. When she had walked into that estate during that encounter with the gladiators, and Crowley had come rather quickly after, Aziraphale had feared that she would judge them both for not doing their duties towards each other: Smiting each other down during every encounter, thwarting each other’s attempts at tempting or blessing, but she had offered Crowley a deal.

How quickly that can change. Babylon is an angel, holy and good and filled with God’s love. Should she decide to, Crowley can be reduced to ash and thrown back into Hell, should he displease her, because he is just a demon. And how bad will Aziraphale feel about that, until she brings him judgement too, for his friendly demeanour against his hereditary enemy?

Will he Fall? Will he have his wings removed? Will he be punished to stay in Heaven and forsake the Earth and humanity he was sent to guard, or will he simply be destroyed? The consequences of his so far friendly attitude towards the demon are dark, but Aziraphale is not feeling comfortable with leaving the demon alone with the other angel either and decides to stay for as long as he can, and also to be able to communicate with them both, should something happen.

Aziraphale laments the four thousand years of a peaceful arrangement neither have spoken of or given a name to, come to an end.


	3. Babylon and Bada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babylon, in her excitement, tells Bada what this all means. Bada is not happy for her

Babylon has not felt this excited for a long time, and it must show, because Drest and Bada both throw odd looks between each other as they follow her down the halls after their return to the villa. There’s practically a skip to her steps, quite unbecoming of a woman of her status.

“Bada, with me.” Babylon says as she steps through the doorway to her chambers. He follows her inside, and Drest dutifully stays outside, arms behind his back, guarding the door from any who wishes to enter her chambers against his domina’s orders. Bada watches silently as she paces back and forth, an excited look in her wide sunset coloured eyes, she nearly appears as if she’s lost her mind, but he knows better than to say that out loud.

Babylon, for her part, is piecing the new information together. She has found Aziraphale, the angel she knows, according to God, that she needs to restore Raphael, her charge. She has also found Raphael’s fallen form. The pieces she needs have fallen into her grasp, and with them, she can begin the work to restore the archangel to his true form. It will take time, she is not delusional, but she now has the pieces, and she never thought she’d be so lucky as to find them both at the same time. Both at the same time, both within reach, both now bound to her in a way through this arrangement. She’ll never lose them again. Aziraphale truly seems like a good angel at his core unlike so many others she has come across these last four thousand years, and she will admit to feeling slightly guilty for how she will use him from now on, but it is her mission.

His is to protect humanity, hers is to protect Raphael, and by the decree of God, give him a chance at restoring himself. And for that she needs Aziraphale. She needs for him to play his role perfectly. Finally, she speaks.

“What luck do I have, Bada!” She exclaims and the man startles. “The two final pieces fallen within my reach, and now I have them in the palm of my hand! My duty will soon be fulfilled, and I will once again find some semblance of peace!” She nearly crows with happiness, and Bada asks a question he dreads the answer to.

“What happens once you’ve fulfilled your duty? Will you be free to do whatever you want?” Bada asks and Babylon looks up.

“No, once my duty here is done, I will most likely be called back to Heaven, where I will once more stand beside my brother, should he chose to accept the gift given to him! This is such good news, Bada, for thousands of years I have waited, and now I have it all!” She looks so joyous, so bright and alive as he’s never seen her before, like she has no more cares in the world, as if the burden is gone. She seems truly like she appears for once, not a maiden hiding behind a young face with infinite wisdom, but truly like a young woman, free from all worries. It should bring Bada joy to see her like this, but her words strike him cold. She will leave. She will leave this place, and her servants with it. Him. Bada does not speak up, just lets his domina ramble and nearly jump around in joy, before she turns towards him again, and the smile slides off her face.

“Bada?” She walks over when he turns his face away in a futile attempt at hiding his expression and lays her hands on his cheeks, making him look down at her. He must truly look a wretched, pathetic mess for her to seem even the slightest bit worried.

“What’s wrong?” And how innocent is her question, how naïve is she to not realize what it means to those in close service to her that she will leave this place, to no longer have her there? She is their security, the one master they do not mind serving, someone they are actually loyal to out of love and respect, not fear. And suddenly Bada feels angry, angry that she cannot see this, angry that for this one moment, she seems just as selfish as any other dominus or domina he has served. Angry that his beloved domina is suddenly not who she’s been for years. Angry that she pulled him out of the pit, a place he understood, to just leave him to wander aimlessly in a world he cannot accept nor understand, a world he no longer recognizes.

“You’re leaving us.” She blinks at him, before a laugh escapes her, and the anger grows, heat flushes to his cheeks, because how dare she laugh at him after all those pretty words of hers that have reassured him over the years? How dare she laugh when she told him it was safe to love her, to always want to be in her service when she’s going to _leave_?

“Bada, oh sweet Bada, I am not leaving you.” She assures him, gathering his hands in hers. They’re so small against his own, but there is more strength in hers than in his.

“You said it yourself, soon you will be gone.” He nearly spits out, but if she’s fazed or annoyed by his anger, she doesn’t show it.

“Our perception of time is different, sweet boy. _Soon_ for me, can be another five hundred years, perhaps even a thousand years, or two for humanity. By that time, you will no longer be here. Not you, not Drest, not Charis. By that time, I will already have lost every human precious to me.” And Bada is again reminded just how different Babylon is, that she is indeed not human, not bound by mortal laws and time.

She will not age, she will not die. She will stand everlasting, even when all life fades away into nothing, when all the greenery has fallen to rot, when mountains have turned to rubble, when animals and humans alike have all but been swallowed by the earth or burned and turned to ash, she will stand there, never changing, never aging, never dying.

And Bada pities her for it.


	4. The Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, an angel, a second angel and a demon drink in the same house

Crowley is not at all comfortable with this, but he’ll be more damned than he already is to show anyone that. He’s lounging on plush pillows in his estate with a cup of wine in his hands, Aquila moving about filling the cups of everyone present.

Everyone being Aziraphale and Babylon.

Aziraphale the demon has no trouble with housing beneath his roof, after all, they’ve wandered in and out of each other’s orbits for thousands of years. They know each other, and Crowley considers him somewhat of a friend, despite the two of them being on opposite sides. The angel is Crowley’s one constant here on earth, and Crowley might be a prideful being, but he is not above admitting that he would most likely have gone mad if it wasn’t for the blonde, blue eyed principality. Babylon, on the other hand, he does not understand. She sits with a straight back and cradles the cup in both hands daintily in her lap, seeming perfectly comfortable with her perch on a settee.

And her human bodyguard behind her. It’s easy to see that he’s a former gladiator, his build speaks of that. Lots of scars, and a look in his eyes that tell Crowley he’s seen much, endured much. How an angel has found herself with a human gladiator as a bodyguard though, the demon finds hard to understand. The Babylon he remembers preferred being in the front, preferred doing her own fighting, though of course, down here on earth it would be terribly uncommon for a woman to fight the way he knows Babylon can. The bodyguard is perhaps for blending in, not that she needs him. A cruel assignment she has given the human, the demon thinks. An assignment without a purpose, and angels are all about everything and everyone having a purpose.

Then again, the lot in Heaven had seemed just as comfortable with having their precious Lord’s son be murdered on a cross, so he really should not be so surprised, should he?

Crowley waits for it to happen, waits for Babylon to speak of a judging, showing that she is still one of Heaven’s most loyal soldiers, but it doesn’t happen. She smiles at Aquila, thanks her for the refilling of her cup, and the poor servant girl is thrown for a loop over the kind treatment from another noble domina. She chances a glance at her dominus, who simply shrugs.

“So, what did you come here for?” Crowley probes, going straight for the reason behind Babylon’s appearance here.

“Business. I wish to know about the both of you, and before both of you grow defensive, I am not here to judge either of you, nor do I have any intention of ever doing so. Speak freely with me, and I shall offer you only honesty in return.” Babylon answers, not missing a beat, having already guessed at the demon’s suspicions about her. Crowley eyes Bada behind his shades, before looking back at Babylon.

“Send out your bodyguard then, if you want honesty.”

“Then you must also send out the young lady.” Babylon shoots back, and Crowley sits up a bit in his seat, eyes narrowing behind the coloured lenses.

“Aquila knows.” He grits out, not quite sure if letting the angel know is such a good idea, but still not wanting to lose to her. It’s something about this being _Crowley’s_ house. He is the master here, he gives the orders, not this angel.

“And so does my Bada. There is nothing you can’t speak of in front of him. He can handle it.” Both Aziraphale and Crowley blink and stare at the other angel in the room, and Bada stands behind her, quietly, until she sighs. Wings unfold, and to her credit, Aquila does not drop the jug of wine in her hands, but she does stare, because while she found her dominus wings beautiful, dark and sleek and soft and warm to the touch, these wings are beautiful too, white and groomed and nearly blinding in their radiance. They stretch out, before they fold at her back, and while Bada’s eyes strays to admire them for a moment, he does nothing else. Honestly, Crowley expected the man to fall over and scream as his mind shatters, but the angel has been truthful. He knows the truth of Babylon, and therefore the rest of them can speak freely too. He rolls his shoulders, and his own wings unfurl. Aziraphale hesitates, but follows suit, not able to hide that slight sigh of relief as he shakes them free. While hiding them in the aether is a necessity now, as most human minds break at the sight of them, it does leave them cramping after a decade or two.

“Why is his wings dark, domina?” Bada asks quietly from behind Babylon, perhaps hoping to be subtle, to not let the others hear him. Unfortunately for him, every supernatural being in this room has senses that by far is superior to humans.

“That is rude, Bada.” Babylon gives him a reproachful look over her shoulder, before turning back to face Aziraphale and Crowley.

“In short, it means we are on opposite sides.”

“So he’s an enemy to you?” Crowley raises a brow challengingly, and precious young Aquila tightens her grip on the jug and actually _glares_ at the gladiator. It’s comfortable, having someone on _his_ side, even though he is the _bad_ one, and Babylon is the _good_ one. Bada may not have made any move to grab for his weapon, and in his voice there is simple curiosity, but Aziraphale has seen how well this man fights. The angel grows tense.

“He’s only my enemy is he chooses to be. I bear him no ill-will, and I hope he’ll let me show that I am, indeed, not a danger to him or his friend, no matter what anyone else says.”

Babylon has never once, for as long as Crowley’s known her, been very good at manipulating nor lying, and while he actually believes her, he can’t quite shake the thought that there is something more to the whole matter, an underlying motive.

And he can’t understand it, no matter how hard he stares at Babylon, she’s not letting anything slip. Babylon might not be good at manipulating, but she’s grown to be able to hold secrets.


	5. Oysters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale tries to be subtle in trying to learn about Babylon's true intent. 
> 
> Aziraphale has neer been very subtle

Aziraphale is still worried, despite the fact that Babylon has been nothing but kind since their first meeting. He’s walking with her down the streets now, her bodyguard behind them as she speaks of how she’s been getting by on earth since she descended from Heaven. She has apparently been here for quite some time now and seems to enjoy it better than being in Heaven. Aziraphale might be careful when it comes to Heaven and their scrutiny, because it’s no secret to him that no one up there is much of a fan of him and he won’t lie and say that the thought doesn’t sadden him, but he is also resourceful. He does not know Babylon, has never spoken with her before she came to Crowley’s mansion, but he will find out. He will find out whether or not she is a danger to them, even if there is little he can do about it if she is. She has claimed not to be harbouring any ill will towards them, even if she and Crowley are hereditary enemies, but still, one can never be too careful.

And apparently, the angel and demon has not been careful enough.

“So, where is the restaurant of this Petronius?” Babylon’s voice cuts through his thoughts and Aziraphale barely hides how she startles him. He has invited her out for dinner, as a way to ascertain whether or not she actually wants to befriend them. He’s yet to meet any other angel who enjoys food, as most of them thinks that human food is utterly disgusting, and they will never sully their “celestial temples” with gross matter. Babylon, on the other hand, had sought him out with the intent of enjoying good food together. Aziraphale will now test that theory.

“Oh right around the corner here. He truly does wonderous things with oysters.” Aziraphale says and notices the almost skip in her steps and the excitement in her eyes.

“I’ve never had an oyster, but I hear they look very unique. What do they look like, Aziraphale?” She asks, and he hums.

“Unique is a word for it. I’d have to say that they taste much better than how they look, but they are served in their shells.” Bada has to wait outside, or rather, he chooses to wait outside while they are inside and eat, and Aziraphale watches with a keen eye when they are served, Babylon’s reactions to the food. She doesn’t look disgusted, as he expected her to, instead she appears very curious as she lifts a shell and sniffs at the slimy meat inside.

“Oh, a peculiar smell as well. How do I eat it?” So he shows her and to his utter delight she enjoys it, says they definitively must come back here more often. Crowley had not been much of a fan, but he prefers to drink instead of eating, so that had not been much of a surprise. Still, Aziraphale realizes now that having someone accompany him who also eats and enjoys human foods is, well it is rather _nice_. Babylon seems almost as excited about food as Aziraphale feels, and suddenly the angel doesn’t feel so alone anymore.

“I was being sincere, you know.” He looks up at her, sees her regarding him over the rim of her cup. “When I said I wanted a friend down here, I was sincere.” And Aziraphale realizes that she has seen straight through his plot to figure out what her reasons are. And either she was sincere the whole time, as she claims to be, or else she’s been playing along with his scheme, trying to throw him off. But Aziraphale is an angel, and he can sense dishonesty, even from his own kind, and he’s not felt any of the like from Babylon and therefore he decides to, after some hesitation, believe in the angel.

“My apologies, I just find it hard to believe that another angel would look upon this tentative non-aggressive relationship I have with the opposition in a positive .” He chooses his words carefully as he speaks, hoping not to offend her, because things can take a real sudden turn if he does, but she just grins at him.

“I’m not like the other angels up there. I don’t see everything as black and white, there’s a grey-zone, and earth is that place. Also, from what I can see, and do not tell Crowley this because I think it will offend him greatly, he has done more good for the humans we angels are supposed to love even more than the Almighty, than any angel in Heaven ever has.” It is truly blasphemous, what she says, and Aziraphale can’t help but cast an uneasy glance upwards. Nothing happens. Then again, there has been little response from the top for the last four thousand years.

“Aziraphale.” He looks back towards Babylon, who is no longer smiling, but looking rather serious as she puts down her cup and crosses her arms over the table.

“Out of all of Heaven, only a very few are safe from Falling.” And the words send a terrible chill through him, because what will happen, if so many run the risk of Falling into Hell? It can happen at any time, can it not? _No_ , it is _impossible!_ Angels knows better, they know why the first War happened, why there had been a Falling, they _know_ , they can’t be so careless as to stumble and lose faith and question and seek to hurt God’s creations!

“H-how?” Aziraphale stammers. “ _Why?”_ She watches him as he tries to wrap his mind around the fact that Babylon, the- He stops and looks at her. She is The Jury, Judge and Executioner of God Herself. Does her telling him this mean that she can still communicate with God, that She answers this angel, that Babylon is the one who will cast any angel out in the name of the Almighty?

“They’ve forgotten why the War happened.” Babylon says quietly. “And they’ve forgotten what they swore to the Almighty. All they think of now, is being _better_ than the opposition, and they do not understand what _better_ means.”

Aziraphale’s mind is filled with questions, but now he believes that he pities Babylon. Michael once cast Lucifer out in the name of the Almighty, alongside all of Lucifer’s followers, and he can vaguely remember how distraught she had been afterwards, once she realized what she had done. If Babylon, with those titles, now judges angels and their actions, then she is the one who will also execute their punishment. Babylon who seems rather sweet, _nicer_ than the angels he usually speak to when he must do a performance review, so much more invested in what humanity is all about, who seemed the most furious and hurt after the first War, _she_ has to perform such heavy duties.

Truly, what a pitiful angel she is.


	6. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terrible things happen, and Crowley is left wondering how and why

Crowley’s been invited by Babylon’s current guardian to a banquet. The demon doesn’t much care about the food, so he brings Aziraphale along, knowing that the angel at least will be able to enjoy the food. And maybe he’ll even be happy that Crowley invited him along. According to the angel, Babylon is quite sincere in her wish to become allies with them both, and while Crowley isn’t sure he can quite believe in Babylon anymore, he knows Aziraphale doesn’t have a single dishonest bone in his body.

Except for that one time with the flaming sword. Outright lying to God like that, the angel has guts. Something Crowley can respect.

They are expected to bring a slave each, and since Aziraphale has none, Crowley lets him borrow Vibius, and brings Aquila himself. Those two are much better at reading the atmosphere at such parties than the others, who are much too young and have no experience with it as Crowley bought them before they could suffer such occasions. No, Aquila who is already an adult woman now, and Vibius who is quite the intelligent and adapting boy, are the safest bets to bring about.

Of course, after arriving, and having mingled a bit, he hears comments about Aquila’s face, about the scar, about how unattractive such a blemish is on a slave. The servant herself keeps a mask of placidity, as if she doesn’t hear nor care about the remarks of her scar. Crowley finds himself growing rather tired of the useless chatter of what a proper pretty slave should look like, and snaps his fingers, and the romans find themselves with other topics to discuss, forgetting what they just talked about.

“There was no need, dominus.” Aquila says quietly from behind him and he snorts.

“It was more for my own sake than yours, girl. It was annoying to listen to.” He says gruffly. Perhaps if he keeps telling himself that he might believe it. Perhaps his servant will believe it too if he denies it enough. The tiny little slip of a smile that disappears as quickly as it appeared tells him that it will not be so, but Crowley doesn’t have to explain himself to a human anyways. How cheeky will his servants become just because he isn’t some pathetic human overlord with too much pride and vanity, and therefore doesn’t act out on it? Too much, most likely, but at the very least Crowley isn’t surrounded by foolish slaves. His servants are actually quite intelligent, and their survival instincts are good. The irony of it all is that it is the slaves here who are better at thinking for themselves, than the high-born nobles.

“Lord Crowley.” He turns and sees Babylon walk towards him, on the arm of the man she’s masquerading as her father. The man demands Crowley’s attention, speaking of the horrible act of Asiaticus, of the loss of his slaves and the hope that Asiaticus’ riches and slaves have made up for it, and gratitude that he was there to save the man’s daughter. Again Crowley keeps himself from saying that in all reality it was Babylon’s own guards that kept her safe.

Not that she needs them. Instead, he thanks the human for the invite, and gives him lavish praises for the décor and drink, filling his voice with a little bit of demonic power. He can see Babylon raise a brow at him, but there seems to be amusement in her eyes, and she doesn’t give him a warning look. It occurs to Crowley that she might not give a damn if he tempted every last human in this house into sin. Not that he has to, the humans here have all jumped into most of the sins of their own volition. Perhaps that is why Babylon doesn’t care. Or perhaps it is as she said upon their first meeting down here on Earth: she doesn’t care about humanity as a whole.

“Fetch me a drink.” Crowley tells Aquila, who bows her head and whisks away.

“Terribly ugly, that one.” The senator says, and Babylon’s shoulders tense. While the romans don’t particularly care about their slaves (most of them anyway), it is still a bit uncouth to speak in such ways about someone else’s’ slave, especially since the slave brought along will be a representative of a noble man’s servants.

“How so?” She asks the question seemingly with an air of nonchalance, but Crowley can see the underlying tenseness in her body language, like she is silently daring the human to say more. The man is, of course, not able to pick up on it.

“That scar, terribly ugly. What use is she if she’s so ugly?” And Crowley can both feel and see the rage building up in the angel beside the man, and while he’d _love_ to see her explode in rage, because this is more like the Babylon he knew back in the day, it is a Babylon he is more familiar with, he’d really rather not be accidentally and inconveniently discorporated.

“Well, the girl is clever enough. As long as she can do her tasks, I don’t care either way. I appreciate proper work ethics over shallow beauty.” The demon says with a shrug. Babylon brings herself to her full height before pulling her hand away from the human, surprising him with the force she yanks her hand back to herself, cradling it in the palm of her other hand as if she’s been burned by him.

“Excuse me, I feel I am in need of finding _intelligent_ company.” The insult is clear as day, and the human gapes after her as she walks away. In the shadows, Crowley can see Bada move about, never losing sight of his mistress.

“That girl, a vicious tongue she has sometimes. I have spoiled her too much, I should take one of her guards from her.” The senator grumbles, and Crowley smirks.

“Why, if it wasn’t for those guards, your daughter might have been killed by now. Assassinations and secret plots aren’t so secret in our society. Best let her have them, I say, who knows when another thinks themselves clever enough to rise through ranks through killings?” The man stares at him for a few moments before nodding in agreement.

“You’re right about that. Caelia is surprisingly lucky with her decisions. She brought those men into her service not long before it all began happening, it was like she knew something was coming.” It’s not exactly difficult to understand that at some point someone would attempt at committing murder to better their own position, it happens nearly every day it seems. It’s not about having some foresight, it’s just about thinking logically, but all these humans in these positions are just too prideful and vain to believe that anyone will attempt at causing them harm. They are, after all, _important_ people.

But at this point, Crowley wonders where Aquila has run off to. She’s never been slow to complete any task he’s given her, but now she’s been gone for quite a long time, especially considering she’s just gone to get him another cup of wine. He turns around, searches the crowd for her, only to find her standing face to face with a roman noble, her head turned downwards as she clutches the cup Crowley requested in her hands. A human would not hear what the man says, or the servant, but the three supernatural creatures in the building does. Crowley sees Aziraphale frown and turn, making to move towards them, until he is stopped by Vibius’ hand on his arm, whispering that it is not his duty, all the while the young human attempts at keeping a schooled expression on his face.

No, it is not Aziraphale’s duty, it is Crowley’s, because Aquila is his slave, and so he excuses himself from the senator and moves to head over, only to pause for a bit when the noble speaking to Aquila seems to sneer and reach for something within his robes. Crowley quickens his pace then.

“Disobedient slave! This will teach you!” He draws out a whip from his robes and rears back, and Crowley sees Aquila grit her teeth, steels herself, and then the noble’s whip catches on something, and there’s a loud scream and yells and Aquila drops the cup and covers her mouth in horror, and the noble turns around swiftly to see what he hit, only to pale at the sight.

“Out of my way, _out of my way!_ ” Crowley hears Aziraphale yell as he pushes through the crowds, but the demon can only stare at the slightly turned away and bowed over form of Babylon. One hand is clutching her face, the other is cupped beneath her jaw, and he watches red blood drip down onto it. Bada is by her side in seconds, towering over her and in-between her and the noble with the whip. There’s chaos and commotion as people move away from them all, as the senator yells and runs over as well, and Crowley finds himself grabbing onto the noble who whipped the angel across the face as he waits for her to right herself up. By all means, this should not be too painful for her, she is a trained soldier of Heaven after all, and with her powers she can dull the sting. This is more or less for dramatic effect, and already Babylon is quite different from female human nobles.

She’s not screaming in pain.

When she starts to straighten up, he catches a glimpse of her eye, and he supresses a shiver, because the look is as quickly gone as it was there. It’s been some time since Crowley saw such heavenly wrath contained in such a small being, but it’s gone before she’s straightened herself up properly. Now that Babylon is standing properly again, the chaos dies down, as if she commands the entire room when she, with just a gesture, has Bada move back so she can move closer to the noble, who is positively shaking in Crowley’s hold. She holds her cheek with one of her hands, her right eye closed. Crowley wonders if she might have damaged it, though it’s hard to see with all the blood.

“The girl is not _your_ slave.” Babylon begins, voice carrying around the room loudly over the silent murmurs of the other guests.

“She belongs to another, and as such, you have no right to punish her for any crime. The slaves brought here today will only serve their own masters, and this you knew, and as such, the only one who could punish her is her dominus or domina. And now,” and here the blonde woman’s voice turns steely, “because of your vain, pathetic pride, you have _marred my face._ How will you repay me for this utter stupidity of yours?” She is too calm as she asks this, but the longer she has to wait for the noble to answer her, the anger Crowley witnessed earlier is starting to bleed through again.

_“Well?”_ She nearly yells and the man flinches and starts to babble, unable to find any words to string a proper sentence together. Babylon exhales, closing her left eye as well in what seems to be an attempt at holding her temper. She turns towards Aziraphale, who has carefully walked closer while she spoke.

“You have experiences with healing others. Might I impose your service?” He nods, playing the role well and as they both move to leave the party behind. Babylon does stop by her human senator, and stares at him for a long moment.

“All the more pity to you, father.” She says, and the man reaches up to carefully hold her, or so it seems, until Babylon speaks again.

“Your daughter is _ugly_ now, and what use am I to you now?” And the man freezes in place as she moves past him with Aziraphale, Bada and Vibius on her heels. Crowley stays where he is, holding the rapidly paling noble in place, despite his trashing about. Babylon’s words there confirmed everything to Crowley.

Well, better to see this human punished than Aquila. Crowley will admit to no one but himself that his servants are more important than others. He doesn’t care, that much he will not admit, but they are _his,_ and Crowley, as a demon, is possessive of his group. The senator doesn’t stay frozen for long, especially not when the noble makes one last attempt at freeing himself from Crowley’s grip, very loudly too.

“U-unhand me! Who are you, how dare you hold me?”

“Crowley is my name, and that was _my_ slave you just attempted at chastising. I thought we weren’t allowed to bring weapons inside our esteemed host’s estate?” And that snaps the senator back into motion, and with a yell his guards are upon the man, and he is dragged away quickly. With a wave of his hand the party resumes, though conversations are quiet and subdued. The man disappears, and Crowley brings Aquila to the outskirts so he can speak to her in private.

“Are you alright?”

“Dominus, your wine, the domina, I’m sorry-“ Aquila nearly weeps, and it occurs to Crowley that he hasn’t seen the girl so distraught since he brought her into his service all those years ago.

“Aquila.” It’s more a command than a question and she looks up at him, before wringing her hands in front of her, taking many deep breaths before she speaks up, her expression once again calm and collected.

“Yes, dominus. I will be alright.” She is not right now, but she is surrounded by humans who thinks of her as nothing more than cattle, so he’ll let that one slide.

“Will the lady Caelia be alright?” Aquila asks and Crowley shrugs. It’s obvious that Aquila has grown to like Babylon, as Babylon has treated her as she actually is worth just as much as anyone else. Once someone gets a taste of that, it’s nearly impossible to let go of.

“Like me, she can heal any wound on her body.” Aquila seems relieved until Crowley speaks again. “But she won’t do it.”

“Why not?” Aquila asks quietly, frowning in confusion and Crowley glares out at the humans who have slowly begun to return to their jovial selves, no longer worried about what just happened.

“Because she did it on purpose.” He had felt the air shift as the noble had pulled out the whip from his robes, like a miracle had been performed. Babylon had made the whip hit her on purpose, and as such, while having saved Aquila from a world of hurt, she pretty much sentenced this man to a horrible experience himself. Is she, as an angel, allowed to do that? Then again, as she had hinted at that day they met in his estate, the boundaries an angel has to cross to be punished are… not so strict anymore. In any case, he should go and check up on them as well, just to make absolutely sure that she’s not caging in Aziraphale into something he doesn’t want to be roped into.

Really, that’s the only reason.

And Crowley is right. During the next few years they are in Rome, in which Babylon is still playing the senator’s daughter, she walks around with long lines of raised welts across her nose and right cheek.


	7. Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bada struggles with what he has entitled his "Failure", with a capital F.

Bada finds it hard to look at Babylon after that banquet. Months have passed, and while the wounds have healed, they left scars behind. Scars that mar his domina’s face, scars that makes people whisper behind her back. Scars that remind him of his failure. He failed to protect her. Drest has asked him about it, but he’s not blaming Bada for what has happened. After all, in all reality neither bodyguard should have needed to be there, forced to stay in the shadows until their domina had her will and they could come, and the reason for Babylon’s scars are because of noble man who wanted to show a poor slave in their place for no other reason than that he stood above them.

Keyword here: Stood.

No, Drest does not blame Bada, and neither does their domina. She holds her head high, as if she doesn’t have nasty scars covering half her face. While this makes Drest confident that Bada is not in trouble, and that their domina still believes in them, Bada feels nothing but utter failure for what has happened. For the very first time in his service to her, he has failed her. Seven years of service, and never once has he let anyone touch a strand of hair on her head.

And now her face is marred with scars.

Romans covet beauty, and Babylon had been such a great beauty. Now, she is ugly in their eyes, even the man who she masquerades as her father has trouble looking at her nowadays, but she doesn’t seem to be too worried about it. Actually, it seems like she has more freedom now than ever before, except for the fact that the senator no longer brings her to any fancy parties he is invited to.

“He can’t show me off anymore, you see. He cares, he does, he is not a bad man, or, well, he is not the worst human I have encountered during my time here in Rome, but he is bound by the rules of society. He needs to keep face, you see. You understand that even better than me.” Babylon tells Bada and Drest as she walks the garden with them, allowing a tiny little bird to perch on her hand.

“It’s wrong-“

“Of course it’s wrong, humans are vain creatures who do not bother to look beneath the surface.” Babylon laughs, before her eyes get a far-away look in them.

“You weren’t always like this though. There was a time when humans could take one look at us angels and demons and see us for what we were, but as you evolved, you chose to look at the surface, and not essence, and now you’ve all but lost the ability to even sense the difference. This has made humanity more susceptible to the evil wiles of Hell, but the Almighty knows everything, so She also knew this would happen. Well, your race is no more than four thousand years old, and you’ll evolve again and again. That’s the one thing I like about humanity, it’s never stuck in one place forever.”

In a way, it is disheartening to hear her talk like that, because it proves that they are nothing to her, ants beneath her sandals.

“But well,” Babylon lifts her hand and assists the bird with its take-off, “while I don’t particularly fancy humanity as a whole, I do have a few precious people among them I would do anything for.”

Bada no longer thinks himself as one of those people. At the very least he does not deserve to be a part of that group anymore. Babylon never once tells him so, but she doesn’t seem to pick up on his mood or attempt at cheering him about it either. For him, who has devoted himself to faithfully serve her, his blunder should be punished by removal of service. He’s just waiting for her to say the word.

But it never comes, and one evening Bada sits in his bunk, stewing in his thoughts.

“Out with it.” Drest groans from his bunk, and the other man looks up, surprised.

“What?”

“You’re thinking so loud I can’t sleep. What’s bothering you this time?” Bada frowns, because to him this is a serious issue. He’s thought about it a lot, and though it is the very last thing he ever wants to do, he has decided to do it, so with a heavy heart and a voice tight with grief, he speaks.

“I am going to ask the Senator to release me from our domina’s service.”


	8. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale worries, yet again. What else is new?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update! (18.02.20)

Aziraphale is worried. Not for himself, this time, well it is also a little bit for himself but that is purely because he’d feel absolutely dreadful about himself if Crowley were to be smited. Smoten? Smoted? What is the word for it? Ah, who can be counted on to care when they are in such a situation?

Babylon has so far proven to be exactly what she says she is. A friend.

Or at least someone who comes over or invites them over for food and a jug or ten of wine. And in-so-far her company has been pleasant, and Aziraphale has very much enjoyed all the outings to restaurants she has taken him out on. Babylon has grown very fond of oysters, and Petronius’ restaurant has found itself with quite the funding for expanding his business. It warms Aziraphale’s heart, but at the same time it worries him. All these things Babylon seem to do without a moment’s thought such as having slaves in her service, using a human’s wealth to do with as she pleases, the ripples she sometimes sparks amongst the nobility…

It’s all so chaotic and un-angelic.

And while she is friendly now, as she said during that little meeting they had where she revealed that her human bodyguard knew the truth about her, she also said that as long as Crowley shows her no ill-will, she will harbour none either. But Aziraphale worries that this also means that if Crowley does anything that will offend her (and that can be so little because angels are easily offended, he’ll admit to that but then again Crowley is a demon and she is entitled to that, isn’t she), she’ll turn on him and send him straight back to the pit he crawled out of. And that thought makes the principality feel quite distraught. Which is ridiculous because Aziraphale is an angel and Crowley is a demon and they are hereditary enemies and by all accounts they shouldn’t even share a drink together at all.

Aziraphale certainly should not be living in said demon’s estate. Truly, he should leave this place and find his own lodgings, something quaint and simple and nice, befitting his status as an angel. Nothing lavish, just simple and good and serving their purpose.

But, _oh_ , Aziraphale likes the estate. He enjoys the pillow-covered settees, comfortable chairs and bed, enjoys the selection of scrolls Crowley has in his abode despite the fact that the demon isn’t much of a reader. The angel enjoys the _good_ the demon has accomplished here, the chance he has given the humans at education and a worthy life even if it is as servants to a dominus.

Most of all, Aziraphale enjoys the _love_ that the whole place is surrounded in. He is surrounded and uplifted by it, by the love the young ones in the house has for each other, the family ties and friendships they share in together, how they respect and love their dominus because he has earned it, and not because he has demanded it out of feeling like it’s owed to him.

Crowley can deny all of this, say that he is a demon and he doesn’t do _good_ things, he does dastardly things, he inspires evil, tempts humans to do horrible acts because he is the craftsman of the original sin, the Very First Temptation. But it wasn’t angels who saved drowning children during The Great Flood, it wasn’t angels who took pity on Jesus and showed him all the Kingdoms of the World in an effort to comfort him and give him strength to face the cruelty the man’s own Mother would bestow on him for the sake of absolving humanity of their sins. It wasn’t Aziraphale or any other angel who helped Mary through a difficult childbirth, only to disappear into the shadows as soon as the boy was born, and angels descended from the Heavens to bring the message that the Messiah was born. And it certainly is no angel who buys children out of the slave markets and are now offering them education.

Crowley can say whatever he wants, but his actions contradicts his words. And Aziraphale adores him for it all the more.

In the Garden, Aziraphale had been wary of Crowley. Even as they crossed paths every now and then, Aziraphale has always kept a distance, since they truly are on different sides and he does not want Heaven to see him spend time with a demon without actively thwarting said demon. But after the children stowed away on Noah’s Ark, after Mary’s fears being placated, after seeing compassion shown to the son of someone Crowley no longer has any ties to, how can Aziraphale believe for even a moment that Crowley is just another demon?

The answer is that the angel can’t.

Aziraphale is the very first Liar on Earth, not that he doesn’t think that the Almighty didn’t see straight through his lie outside the garden walls that day, but that still doesn’t change the fact that he had told Her he had put it down somewhere, instead of having given it to the humans. But he can’t lie to himself about this. Perhaps he would have been able to had the circumstances been different, if Babylon hadn’t come striding into their vicinity and offered them both a deal of sorts.

And as previously stated, Babylon is friendly, so far. And if she can act friendly with a demon, despite her rank and her titles and her duty to the Almighty, then… then Aziraphale can do so too, can’t he? After all, he’s not been reprimanded for being so friendly with a demon yet, has he? God knows everything, She hears everything, She _sees_ everything, She must know that he and Crowley has a tentative friendship, yet She has still to punish him for it. So, it can’t be all that bad, can it? The other angels in Heaven will surely find it horrifying, but they don’t know Crowley, and they won’t ever deign to try either, so Aziraphale will have to keep these thoughts to himself. He certainly doesn’t dare tell Crowley himself. But now Babylon is here, and she unashamedly and without worries shows what she thinks.

So Aziraphale decides then and there to be a bit braver too.

And just as the angel thinks this, there is a surge of heavenly energies outside the estate, hurried footsteps and shouts. He runs out of his rooms and nearly bowls Crowley over. Together they run down into the great entrance hall and witness a soaked and tear-filled Babylon.


	9. Grooming Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley thinks, and thinks and thinks. It's gong to give him a headache

Having the angel in his estate is both a blessing and a curse, not that Crowley does blessings or even enjoy them, because he is a demon and he doesn’t _do blessings,_ he does all the cursing. When humans don’t come up with terrible, terrible things on their own.

Which is… yes, he doesn’t really do a lot of cursing either. Crowley believes in not exerting an effort where it isn’t needed. Because what is the point of that? But back to the point, having Aziraphale in his abode is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because he is _here,_ the one constant in Crowley’s existence is here, in his home, and Crowley isn’t feeling that emptiness he’s been feeling since his Fall. Well, ever since he walked up to the Almighty and demanded to help resolve all the conflict in Heaven. Stupid decision, really. But being around Aziraphale, a tiny piece of Heaven, makes Crowley’s cracked and black heart thrum with life again.

And that is also the bloody curse. Crowley is a demon, he isn’t supposed to experience these kinds of emotions and feelings. He isn’t supposed to be _wanting_ to be around the angel just to feel that slight bit of… _home_. But it isn’t just that either. Crowley’s wanted to be around Aziraphale since the Beginning, since the angel sheltered him from the First Rain atop the wall of the Garden. Something in Crowley wants the angel near, and the demon doesn’t understand it himself.

(Or maybe he just doesn’t want to admit to it.)

It’s probably the very same feeling that made Crowley give the children education. Pulling them away from a lifetime of suffering and slavery isn’t very demonic, but putting them in his own service is an act of vanity and pride, and that is demonic. Offering them education, not so much, but Aziraphale loves the concept, and Crowley knew he would love it. And that’s why he did it. And now Aziraphale is here, for an unspecified amount of time, and he is overseeing the education being done to Crowley’s humans now, to fill his days with things to do since he has no assignments.

During one evening, when Aquila is in his bedchambers, carefully brushing through his wings as he has shown her to do years ago, the lone servant points it out that he has been in a better mood since his friend came to stay.

“Isss that so?” He mumbles and she hums in affirmative. She comes across a feather that is rather crooked and appears that it must cause the owner some discomfort, so she lays a hand over it and gives him a warning. She watches his shoulders tense, and then she yanks. He releases a hiss that is more beastly than human, but relaxes quickly. Aquila is quite used to her dominus articulating inhuman sounds, so she no longer startles at them. Now she finds them, and she will never say so out loud to Crowley, adorable.

“Are you two close?”

“You heard the other angel that was here. We’re on opposite sides.”

“Which means you two are on good terms then.” Aquila comes by another crooked feather and yanks.

“Bloody Hell, girl! Warn me!” Another yank. _“Aquila_!”

“Forgiveness, dominus, I thought it best to be quick about it.” She apologizes, doing her best not to grin at the glare he throws over his shoulder.

“Don’t try me, girl. I know exactly what it is you’re doing.” Yet he is still lenient with her. With her former dominus, all she had to do was blink at the wrong time, and she’d suffer a beating.

“Preening your wings?”

“Don’t play coy with me.” Crowley growls, actually sounding a bit angry. “I can do this fine on my own, I’m letting you because you like it. I can easily shut you out and do it myself. Or let Vibius do it.” That causes a frown to mar her face. Aquila loves her brother, she truly does, but she enjoys having this one secret only she is privy to, it makes her feel important even though she knows she is easily replaceable. She doesn’t want anyone else to have this as long as she’s alive, as long as she serves Crowley. That is the one selfish act in Aquila’s life. And she knows it is, but once you sit with someone like Crowley, someone who appears human but is so painfully not a mortal, but something higher, much higher, what other choice is there? She knows from Crowley himself that there aren’t many who can stand in his presence when he’s like this and still keep their minds, and she’s proud that she can.

And she won’t give it up.

“I am sorry.” She says quietly, looking down into her lap, hands fidgeting together nervously. Crowley watches, lets her squirm a bit before folding one wing, and then promptly shoves her with it. Aquila nearly falls off the bed with a squeak.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” Aquila stares for all of two seconds before she hurriedly reaches forward and continues to card her fingers through his feathers until they’re all sleek and perfect. When it comes to her duties, everything must be perfect. But that is Aquila’s standards, not Crowley’s. She startles when he suddenly jumps to his feet, wings flaring out and a snarl on his face, before the wings retract and he runs out of his bedchambers. Aquila grabs a candle and follows quickly, watches how their guest nearly collides with her dominus and how they run to the very entrance of the estate, and when Aquila catches up and sees Babylon stand there, all soaked and devastated, she drops the candle to the marble floors.


	10. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babylon knows

Aquila is drying Babylon’s hair with a towel before dressing the angel, leading her out into the dining room where Crowley and Aziraphale are both waiting, Aziraphale sitting as prim and proper as ever though with quite the worried and anxious expression on his face. Crowley, on the other hand holds a cup of wine in his hand, expression carefully neutral, though that may just be the shades covering his eyes.

“Leave us.” Crowley tells Aquila once Babylon is deposited on a seat, and Aquila looks up confused, before acquiescing. Babylon looks rather despondent, something Aziraphale has yet to see on the other angel. Crowley, for his part, has never seen her like this either, not before his Fall, and certainly not after in the short time he’s seen her. Her skin is paler than normal, her freckles rather bleak, her hair limp and her posture just… so defeated, small. And then she does shrink, in the blink of an eye she sits there not as a young woman with a scarred face, but as a child, a blank canvas. New.

“Reverting your corporation to it’s true form?” Crowley mumbles and Aziraphale glances at him just as Babylon looks up, tilting her head tiredly.

“Did you know me? Before?” He knows she doesn’t remember him as Raphael, he knows this, he was warned of this by Her. Before he Fell. Even though he knows this, is prepared for it, it still feels like a punch to the gut to hear Babylon say it out loud, with that voice. 

“You think I did just because I commented on your corporation? I felt the release of your powers, you fool.” Her eyes slide to the ground again, and she seems even smaller.

“Right.” He hates the way she looks so defeated so he downs the whole cup, and with a snap of his fingers he fills it again, and again, and again. Finally, she speaks.

“I released Bada, Drest and Charis from my service.” Aziraphale would have beamed at these news, if not for the fact that Babylon appears almost devastated just telling them this.

“And that’s bad why?” He dares to ask though. “We’re here for you, if you want company.” Crowley scoffs at this, and pointedly ignores the glare Aziraphale tosses him.

“And you can find them whenever you want, can’t you?”

“I removed them from my service completely.” She says quietly.

* * *

_Bada, Drest and Charis finds themselves summoned to their domina’s chambers. Bada doesn’t know why, because other than the fact that he utterly failed at protecting her from another noble he has done nothing to warrant being summoned. But it does not explain why Charis and Drest is here too. They are all confused, Babylon can see it clearly on their expressions, and it bothers her. It bothers her more that it actually bothers her. She’s stayed here for too long, hasn’t she? Gotten too attached._

_“Bada, for how long have you been in my service?” She asks in an even voice, her expression betraying nothing. Bada doesn’t allow himself the pause to think about her strange question. He has failed her too many times. What he will do now is serve faithfully. Until he can get an audience with the Senator._

_“Seven years, domina.” He answers. She turns to look at Charis, neither acknowledging his answer or nodding._

_“Charis?”_

_“T-ten years, domina.” Charis has served since she was a young child. She knows she has been extremely lucky with her mistress, and she doesn’t want to be cut loose. This atmosphere, it scares her._

_“Drest?”_

_“Near as long as Bada, domina.” Drest is confused as well, thoughts whirling in his head. Babylon acknowledges none of them after answering, just rests her head in the palm of her hand, staring blankly into nothingness._

_“Such a short time.” She mutters to herself, just loud enough for the others to hear, and Charis feels a slight tremble take over her body. She doesn’t like the sound of this, she doesn’t like the entire situation, something is wrong. Finally, it seems as if Babylon has reached a conclusion, and she straightens up in her seat, hands clasped in her lap as she regards them. Charis almost lets a whimper escape her. Drest frowns and Bada feels cold sweat suddenly slide down his back. Something is very wrong._

_“From what I understand, someone here is no longer satisfied with being in my service.” The three all look at each other, confused and not at all understanding what is going on. As far as all three are concerned, the only domina they will ever truly be loyal to is the one in front of them, but then Drest stares a bit too long at Bada, a puzzle piece falling into place._

_Their domina, against all possibility, knows of Bada’s intent on asking to be relieved of their domina’s service. Bada stares at Drest as well, a hint of betrayal in his eyes, but Drest shakes his head subtly. He hasn’t told anyone. And Bada feels dread._

* * *

“What, so one of them got a little rebellious, and you decided to punish the whole lot? Sounds like something my kind would do.” Crowley says, holding his cup upside down, glaring up at it.

“Babylon didn’t punish them.” Aziraphale begins, but Crowley cuts him off.

“That remains to be heard, doesn’t it? She said so herself, she removed them from her service.”

“That doesn’t mean she punished them!”

“Well, did she give them their freedom? Because if she didn’t, she might as well have doomed them with a terrible master.” Both turn to look at Babylon, who doesn’t move.

“Well?” Crowley snaps.

* * *

_Charis can’t keep the whimper from escaping her now. She knows already how this will end. Their domina’s exterior betrays nothing, her expression blank, uncaring. It’s an expression Charis has never once seen directed at any who serves her, and it terrifies the girl. She has not done anything wrong, and if she is to be a slave for the rest of her life, which she knows she will, she will serve her domina, she will serve_ this _domina. She has no wish to serve anyone else, and she has never expressed a desire too, either. Whoever it is their domina is speaking of, it isn’t her._

_Drest grits his teeth, because he knows that their domina is no fool. If someone told her that there was one amongst the three of them who desired to be freed from her service, then whoever it is also told her who said so. And whoever told her also twisted the words and intent. Bada doesn’t want to be freed from their domina’s service because he is tired of her or wanting anyone else. He wants to be freed because he can’t seem to cope with his shame. But Drest can’t say that. He just hopes Bada will speak up._

_And he does._

_He takes two steps forward, to stand in front of the other two and kneels, head bowed._

_“Whoever told you so must also have told you that it was me. But I am not unsatisfied with serving you.” There is a silence while Babylon is simply staring down at him. What terrifies Charis is the way she is sitting completely still. She can’t even see the rise and fall of her breathing. Ever since that night in the summer estate, where Babylon had held off her attacker on her own after Charis was wounded, the slave girl has known that her domina is no ordinary being. Perhaps not even human. And humans can hurt their slaves so terribly, what can their domina do?_

_“To think that it would be you, Bada.” And Bada blinks, looking up, catching the hint of grief in her eyes, though it’s gone as soon as it appears. And then it occurs to him that she did not know who it is who is supposed to be dissatisfied with serving her. And again he feels an overwhelming shame at having disappointed her._

_“I am not dissatisfied with serving you, domina!”_

_“But you wish to be free of me.”_

_“That’s, no, not like that!”_

_“It’s quite alright.” He stills, and despite every instinct in him telling him to keep his head down, he forces himself to look up. His body is heavy, and he feels dread when he sees the kind smile on Babylon’s face. She stans up from her chair, and bows down low enough to grab a hold of his arms and pull him to his feet._

_“Come.” She gestures for the other two to come stand with them, and they do so hesitantly._

_“I frightened you, just now. My apologies, I didn’t mean to.” Chairs nearly falls into Babylon in her haste to reach her, and their domina holds out a hand for all of them to put their own on, and she rests her free hand atop theirs again._

_“I did not mean to frighten you, you who have been so loyal and good in your service.” She begins, and it brings them all a sense of comfort._

_“I have been quite fortunate to know all three of you, but today it ends.” All three try to reel back in shock, only to find themselves rooted to the spot, unable to free themselves from her grip as her hands begin to glow a soft white light._

_“I have stayed here for too long, and now I must move on.”_

_“Wait, domina!” Charis panics, but Babylon shushes her._

_“No need to be frightened, little one. You are no longer slaves. Once we have said our farewells here, you will find yourselves to be free, no longer slaves to any other mortal. I have secured you homes in which you will lead good lives, do not worry.”_

_“But, but, why can’t we just serve you?” Babylon smiles then, though it seems more of an attempt to comfort them than to relay any happiness._

_“Because now I need to move on and fulfill my duty, and where I now walk, danger follows. I do not wish to bring any harm upon you. This is not a punishment, not for any of you. This is me giving you the freedom no one ever had the right to take away from you. I give you a blessing, a spell of protection, none of you shall ever be enslaved again for as long as you live. I thank you for your companionship, I thank you for your love, I thank you for your loyalty, I thank you for your trust.” Babylon says, and Drest exhales, before sharing a glance with Bada, who nods._

_“We will find you, domina.” Drest says and his words cause the smile to die on her lips, and she looks hopelessly apologetic, small and vulnerable like a fawn._

_“No, no you will not.”_

_“Whatever order you give us not to find you, we won’t follow.” Bada says, fierce determination in his voice._

_“I wish to serve you until the end of my days, Babylon!” Tears run like waterfalls down Charis’ cheeks as she sobs her agreement with Bada and Babylon sighs, shaking her head._

_“But you will not.”_

_“We will find you!” Charis says determinedly, watery eyes sharp, and Babylon bows her head, overcome with emotions she has not felt in thousands of years. It is utterly horrible, this feeling, but she swallows it down._

_“How can you find someone you can’t remember?” Their eyes widen, a newfound desperation to yank themselves free appears, but even if they had possessed the strength to free themselves from a warrior of God, it is too late. The soft light grows so bright they can barely keep their eyes open and Charis turns into Drest, who holds up his free hand in an effort to keep his eyes open._

_“Babylon!” Bada yells, voice pleading, but it is too late, and Babylon wouldn’t have stopped what is happening even if she could._

_“Sleep, and dream of whatever you enjoy the most.”_

* * *

There is a silence as the demon and the angel stares at Babylon, who has now curled in on herself. The first to clear his throat and break the silence is Aziraphale.

“So… You sent them off to a safe place, and made absolutely sure they will have their freedom until the end of their days?”

“Yes.” Babylon croaks out.

“And the senator whose roof you resided under?”

“No one remembers me. My existence is completely wiped from everyone’s minds.” The other angel says quietly.

“I, um, I see.” Aziraphale has never let himself be too known by the humans. Their lives are so short and fickle, and no matter how much he tries to help, there is a limit to everything. And while he is all for enjoying and pursuing the pleasures on earth, he is not quite up for the emotional pain that separation brings him. Babylon has set herself up for pain, but she must have known that from the beginning and still saw it through. And she has set the people who served her free, and ensured they will live good long lives.

And that is quite the angelic thing to do.

“Well, that’s settled then.” Crowley snaps his fingers and smacks his lips, face contorting into a grimace.

“What’s settled?” Aziraphale asks.

“If you’re going to stick around as a kid, might as well stay here. I house all the fucking misfits, don’t I?” The demon says as he strides towards the halls leading to his bedchambers, snapping his fingers. Aquila appears almost immediately.

“Get her settled.” He tells the human gruffly, and she nods.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale jumps to his feet, but Crowley just waves a hand over his shoulder as he disappears.

“Might as well be on your good side, stay as long as you want, misfit.” Aziraphale is horrified by the demon’s language, but when he turns to apologize to Babylon, he finds her curled up in a ball, face hidden behind her knees as her entire body trembles.


	11. A Final Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babylon has judged human souls, sending them to Heaven and Hell.
> 
> There is one trial she has postponed too much though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Sandalphon is technically, an archangel. Just not in this story

She’s standing in the middle of her flat, staring at the summoning circle on her floor, which is glowing with pure heavenly energy. She doesn’t want to do this, because she really does not want to go back to Heaven, no matter how short her visit it, but she has to, because really, she has let them all go unchecked for too long. Babylon knows that Heaven’s outrageous actions lately is at least a little bit (a whole lot) her fault. Heaven has forgotten about her role. The angels believe that she judges only humans and demons.

She’s going to remind them that she can judge angels too, and their judgement is long overdue.

So with a deep breath she doesn’t actually need, she steps into the portal, and lets it carry her upwards. It only takes a moment, the blink of an eye, and she stands in the sterile, endless halls of Heaven. The rustling of papers and light tap of feet come to a screeching halt when everyone realizes who has ascended to stand among them again. Not a sound is uttered as she looks around, but a lot of the angels there avoid making eye-contact with her. They are all nervous, and whether that is because Babylon has not been in Heaven for the last four thousand years or because of something else, the angel does not know. But right now there is something more pressing than the angels around her being nervous. So she calls out.

“Where are the Archangels?” Her voice carries loud in the halls and several of the angels’ startles. No one answers, but there is no need to, as suddenly four figures come marching down the hall towards her. Gabriel is carrying himself in a way that makes it seem like he’s looking down his nose at her, even from a distance, Michael is straight-backed and confident, Uriel wears a carefully neutral expression and Sandalphon looks rather smug. Babylon can’t understand why he appears smug, but then again, she does not really care.

“Babylon!” Gabriel booms. “Good to see you! About time you came back, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” If he notices her frosty tone, he does a marvellous job at hiding it. Gabriel isn’t stupid, Babylon has never once thought he was stupid, but he is blind to everything that is not how he wants it to be.

“Good, good, lots of stuff has happened, so we need Raphael, so if you’ll just summon him, that would be nice and dandy.”

“No.” Her denying Gabriel seem to shock all four of them, and she sweeps her eyes over them.

“I asked for the Archangels, and them alone. Why are you here, Sandalphon?” The smug look on the bald angel’s face disappears and he looks downright confused. Not exactly surprising, since he has always been wherever Gabriel is, but Babylon has no sympathy for him here.

“Sandalphon is always with us.” Gabriel says, tilting his head and smiling that bright smile again, as if Babylon is asking something rather stupid.

“That he may be, but he is no Archangel, and I asked only for the Archangels.” Babylon says again, slowly.

“Sandalphon is loyal. He stays.”

“As you wish. I was going to summon him next after all.” Uriel and Michael seem to catch onto the fact that Babylon might not be there for the reason they think, and exchange glances between themselves. Something is not right.

“Right.” Gabriel says jovially. “Well, Babylon, we are in need of your assistance. A judgement must be done, and who better to do it than you, God’s own Judge?” The corner of Babylon’s mouth twitches upwards, and she takes a look around.

“Best we speak in private, I’d think.”

“Everyone here knows exactly what it is we will be discussing. Heaven holds no secrets.” Babylon finds that very hard to believe, and raises a brow.

“I think you’ll want this to be in private, Archangel Gabriel.”

“We will discuss this here.” The archangel will absolutely not let Babylon control this setting, the guardian angel realizes, but that is fine with her too. He has his own thoughts on how this will go, and she has graciously offered him privacy twice.

“Alright then, if that is your wish.” Babylon smiles deceptively kindly at him, and she sees his satisfaction with being able to keep in control. Babylon is many things, she admits. Not much of a good angel, petty and prone to anger quickly, and she is also quite malicious. She knows she will enjoy their reactions.

But for all that she struggles with anger, pettiness and just not being as good as the Almighty might have intended of her, the archangels are vain and prideful too, so Babylon doesn’t feel too guilty about it.

“We need to discuss Aziraphale, the traitor. He survived the Hell Fire we cast him into.”

“Hell Fire?” Babylon has been regarded of this tale by Crowley, who gleefully told her he had spit the infernal fires at the archangels, having them nearly wet themselves.

“Yes. We staged a trial for the traitor and punishment. He survived the Hell Fire, so now we look at you, to do your duty.” That’s always how it’s been with Heaven. Duty, duty, duty, yet no one seem to remember what their duty is, they just assume, assume what they want it to be. But Babylon knows well what her duty is, and she has skirted it for years, she supposes. Time to get back in the saddle, as the humans say.

“Indeed. Tell me, archangels, Sandalphon, what is my duty?

“To judge human souls, whether they go to Heaven or Hell, and to smite demons.” Uriel answers coldly, and the too-friendly smile on Babylon’s face widens.

“Only humans and demons?”

“What else is there?”

“Well, you want me to judge the one you call a traitor, and so angels fall within my jurisdiction too. Though we all knew that, that is what the Almighty has tasked me to do, judge humans, demons and angels fairly.”

“Right.” Gabriel juggles on the ball of his feet, stretching himself to be as tall as possible. “Best get to it.”

“Get to it, hm?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to judge Aziraphale. Principality of Heaven, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of the Garden Eden, for what crime?”

“He averted Armageddon!” Sandalphon snaps.

“No, that was the Antichrist. He averted Armageddon, in a brilliant show of a human’s free will.” Babylon says calmly. “Aziraphale was mostly just a witness to it all.”

“He consorted with a demon!” Michael snaps her fingers and photos appear in her hand and she hands them over to Babylon, who looks over each one.

“So you want me to judge him for having been in contact with a demon?”

“He was consorting with the enemy!”

“Hm, indeed, doing what he thought was right. I have already thoroughly interrogated him on the subject.” And she did, back in Rome once he felt safe around her.

“And? How will you punish him?” Uriel demands and Babylon hums.

“I will not. I spoke with Metatron before coming here, and through him I was given Mother’s verdict. She said to let him be.”

“Impossible!” Sandalphon exclaims and Babylon raises a brow.

“What is?”

“God would never allow that!”

“Be careful there, Sandalphon. Don’t start claiming you know God’s will. None of us does. When it comes to human souls, my judgement stands. When it comes to whether or not to smite demons, my judgement stands, when it comes to remind angels why we exist and what our duties are, my judgement stands. When it comes to the Great Plan and the Ineffable Plan and interference in said Plans, I defer to God, and She has spoken, and I will stand by Her judgement. Of course, if you do not believe me, you’re free to ask yourselves.”

“We will! Aziraphale is a traitor to Heaven, he must be punished! An example must be made! Angels _don’t_ talk with demons!” That careful façade on Gabriel’s face is cracking, and Babylon finds herself out of patience.

“You seem horribly fixated on the consorting part, Archangel Gabriel. You want me to judge the Principality for consorting with a demon, but if I am to do that, I must first punish _all_ angels who have consorted with demons.” There is a pause, and the archangels share unsure glances between each other.

“Excuse me, what?”

“You heard me.” Babylon snaps her fingers, and chains shoot out from the ground and wrap around the archangels and Sandalphon, yanking them to the ground.

“What is the meaning of this?” Gabriel demands, trying to free himself and finding himself utterly powerless to do so. A quick glance at the others shows that they are just as unsuccessful.

“These are the chains the Almighty gifted me with, for when I shall do a judgement. The thing is, they only work on the target if they have, indeed, committed the crime they are being accused of. To ensure I would never abuse my status and power.” Babylon says as she glances around, sees all the angels who tried to ignore her earlier come to witness the spectacle. Again Babylon snaps her fingers, and papers appear in her hand. She looks through them, frowning, before turning to point at one of the angels.

“You!” The angel startles, nearly taking a step back. “Summon Metatron.”

“Me?” The angel squeaks and Uriel scoffs.

“Do you really think Upstairs will take _their_ call?” The derisive tone of voice the archangel uses makes Babylon’s temper spike, but she forces herself to keep calm. The way the archangel acts like only _they_ are important enough to God to be answered is prideful, too much than an angel should be allowed to possess, really.

“Is that the same thing you said to Aziraphale before you attacked him, a fellow angel?” Babylon doesn’t even look at Uriel, but the archangel snaps their mouth shut.

“Because I will have you know, his summons were answered, and that is why he made the choice to attempt at averting Armageddon. Summon Metatron, now!” The angel hurries to do as told, and Babylon looks through the papers again before looking at Michael.

“Archangel Michael.” Said archangel glares up at Babylon. “You consorted with a Duke of Hell known as Ligur.”

“I did not.” The chains tighten around the archangel.

“According to these records, your celestial telephone was in contact with a demon’s several times over the last few years.” Babylon says, holding a file up in the air, releasing it and letting it hover there, before taking a few steps to the side.

“Archangel Gabriel. You consorted with the Prince of Hell, Beelzebub.” She releases another file up into the air.

“Lies!” The chains tighten around him too.

“And along with Beelzebub, you attempted at imposing your own will upon the Antichrist, so that he may start a war to destroy all of God’s creation. Imposing our will upon a human is a crime, a terrible one warranting a terrible punishment.”

“He’s the son of Satan! He was supposed to end the world!”

“Son of our fallen brother he may be, but he is also human, and therefore a being of free will, which you tried to shove aside to suit your own ends.” Babylon finds herself not enjoying this as much as she thought she would, but it must be done.

“Archangel Uriel, Angel Sandalphon, right before the beginning of Armageddon, you attacked the Principality Aziraphale, enacting violence upon him.” She tosses two more files into the air, along with a few photographs. All the papers now surround the chained angels in a half-circle.

“He’s a traitor!” The two snap, struggling with trying to break free again.

“This was before he made an attempt at averting Armageddon. You two attacked an angel of higher rank than your own. You attacked one of your own because of your disillusions, and that too, is a crime.”

“I demand you release us from this farce!” Gabriel shouts, and Babylon looks through all the files hanging in the air.

“I cannot. The chains will not release you until we are done. I summon them, but I don’t control them after that. Speak the truth, and they loosen, lie and they tighten. Simple, really.”

“I demand that you release us! We rank higher than you!”

“Indeed, as a Guardian Angel I am below you, but right now, as the Jury, Judge and Executioner, I am above you.” And suddenly, there is a bright light above them, and Metatron’s face hovers above them all. Babylon mutters something under her breath before speaking loudly enough for all to hear her.

“Metatron, tell me this, does God know of everything that has happened?” A useless question, as everyone knows that God sees, hears and knows everything, but it cements the whole trial and the reason for it.

“ _Yes.”_ Metatron answers.

“She knows of all the accusations laid before us?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“She knows that the Archangels Gabriel, Uriel, Michael and the angel Sandalphon have committed these crimes?”

“ _She is aware, yes. No orders were given to them from Her to commit these acts, and as such, she is disappointed with their behaviour.”_ That is one of the most terrifying things any angel in Heaven has ever heard, and even Babylon shivers at the implications of it.

“Will She give me any guidance in this, as She did with the Principality Aziraphale and the Serpent Crowley?” There is a silence in which the Metatron only stares at them, before speaking again.

_“God believes you will judge them fairly. She will not intervene on their behalf. Do as you feel is right, Judge._ ” And then he disappears again. The angels on the floor pale as Babylon crouches down, expression carefully blank.

“You consorted with demons-“

“We didn’t! It was all for the sake of the Great Plan!”

“You admitted to having tried to cast Principality Aziraphale into Hell Fire. Said principality said it happened here in Heaven. Only demons can carry Hell Fire. Archangel Michael, there are thousands of witnesses in Hell that can attest to you heading down there with Holy Water-“

“They held a trial for the demon just as we held for Aziraphale! It was-“ Michael begins but Babylon cuts her off.

“Heaven and Hell cooperating, that’s it, isn’t it?” Even though that is exactly what Michael is suggesting, she’s not confirming Babylon’s words.

“You attacked a Principality of higher rank, you tried to impose your own will onto a human child, you tried to execute an angel who followed his First Order from Her to the letter, you gave Hell Holy Water, you allowed a demon to bring Hell Fire into _Her_ domain, you tried to take _my_ duty into your own hands to serve your own ends, full well knowing there was no fairness in such a farce. You made attempts at sparking a war that would have destroyed all of God’s creation which we are meant to love and protect, and you claim to have done it all for Her Great Plan. You claim to have done it in Her name, yet you have no proof She sanctioned these actions. Those are some very grave crimes, you who should all be examples for the rest of the Heavenly Host.” The angels in custody have stopped struggling, but the angels watching are all quite horrified.

“Do you really think that if God _truly_ intended for Armageddon to happen, truly _wished_ for it, it could have been avoided as it was? Do you truly think that anything She has planned for to happen, can be averted?” No one answers the Judge here, and Babylon supresses the urge to look disgusted with the group in front of her.

“You were supposed to be an example for the rest of us, and as such, your punishment will be a proper example too.”

“What’ll you have us do? Fall? Heaven will be leaderless!” Uriel snaps, something akin to cold sweat running down her face. She’s full of false bravado, trying to egg Babylon on, to make her make a mistake. Babylon has made many mistakes, but never once has she made an error while judging someone. She’s not going to start now.

“Fall? I would be a fool to do such a thing.” The tenseness in the four angels lessen, and for once they seem a bit confident. Babylon crushes the smugness to dust in seconds.

“If I did such a thing, I would be letting you run unchecked. If I make you Fall, then the evil you have committed as angels will seem like nothing compared to the evil you will commit as demons, vain and prideful things that you are.”

“We have not committed _evil acts_ -“

“Swear it in the name of God.” Babylon cuts Gabriel off. “Swear it in the name of the Almighty that you have not committed these crimes.” All four of them opens their mouths, and are horrified to find that their voices are stuck in their throats. The chains tighten some more and Babylon waves a hand and the papers floating around them in the air all pile together and vanishes. The blonde angel straightens up, and clasps her hands together, resting them against her chin as she thinks. Having them all Fall is not an option, considering they could do so much damage unchecked. The Fallen retains their memories of Heaven, and if she tosses them out they will remember, and feel unfairly judged. That is just throwing fuel on the fire. No, she will have to do something else.

“I will give all four of you one last chance at proving your loyalty.” She says. “I will not punish you today.” The chains loosen a bit, but does not release the four completely. Gabriel seems like he wants to speak again, but Babylon finds herself quite tired of listening to their chatter. There is nothing they can say in their defence, after all.

“Today, you will only be given a warning, but if you cross the line again, I will execute your punishment.”

“And what would that be?” They are braver now, knowing that Babylon won’t let them Fall, but she is about to obliterate that bravado as well as she straightens her back properly. There is something they will find even worse than being Damned.

“If you cross that line, I will punish you in the worst way you can imagine. I will strip you of your wings, I will strip you of your ranks, I will strip you of your immortality and your powers.” They pale again as Babylon’s voice booms through the halls.

“I will have you become the very creatures you despise! You fail Her again, if you fail Heaven and Earth and Humanity again, I will strip you of everything but your names, and you will be forced to live as humans, on Earth, and there you will stay until you learn the value of life on earth. _This is not an empty threat_.” Babylon says, nearly hisses, and the chains dig into the angels at various points, leaving glowing marks in their wake.

“My sentence has been passed. Should you ever commit evil again, I will be alerted, and I will come to fulfil my duty. Rest assured, your fates are not connected. If one or two fail their duties, it will not affect all four of you, only the ones committing the crime.” The chains disappear, and the four angels get up on their feet unsteadily.

“I don’t usually deal in second chances.” Babylon says, unfurling her wings. “Don’t. Ruin. Yours.” And then she’s gone, and she leaves behind a shaken Heavenly Host, and four terrified angels.

Babylon finds herself in London again, heaving a breath she well and truly doesn’t actually _physically_ need, but does so anyway, because it makes her feel better. She wonders about how everything could have been different if she had just done her duty properly millennia ago? But perhaps this too was part of God’s Ineffable Plan?

She needs a drink, she thinks, and then another thought pops up. Perhaps she has been down here for too long too, and has gone _‘native’_ as angels and demons have dubbed Aziraphale and Crowley. Somehow, that thought pleases her. At the very least, she can tell Aziraphale and Crowley that they can rest a bit easy about Heaven not trying to retaliate after their humiliation. Hell, she can’t account for, but considering Aziraphale’s tale of how things were down there, she can imagine that they’ll wait a good long while before attempting anything.

She feels in a slightly better mood though, and her corporation feels lighter than it has in centuries, so she walks to the bookshop, enjoys the sunshine in this world that Did-Not-End-As-It-Was-Foretold, the cluttering sounds of a city alive and bright, not a rubble and cold. She’s glad it had been possible to stop Armageddon from fully happening, happy that Adam Young had found something that was more important to him than ruling the world, though it is perhaps because he is a child that he didn’t find ruling the world all on his lonesome such a tempting aspect.

She jogs up the stairs to the bookshop, grabbing a hold of the door handle. The door is locked, and that puzzles her. Ever since Aziraphale opened the shop centuries ago, it has never been locked to her.

That should have been her first clue.

She frowns, before snapping her fingers, the door opening. The shop is dark, and she peers inside, carefully and quietly closing the door behind her. The shop is humming, so it can’t be that something bad is happening in the shop. Like the Bentley, the shop is sentient, though both Crowley and Aziraphale seem to be unable to notice it.

She can’t sense anything untoward either, only the demon and angel in the backroom, so she heads there, stopping short in the doorway to the room.

That should have been her second clue.

Finding the demon being yanked down by his scarf to be kissed by the angel is not exactly what Babylon had expected to see when she entered the shop, but the way they nearly leap away from each other and trip over everything in their haste to create some ground between them. Babylon blinks several times as they try to come up with all kinds of excuses, until she holds up a hand to stop them.

“I would say sorry for intruding,” she begins before dropping her hand, “but I’ve waited since 539 AD for this to happen. Toodle-oo.” She turns on her heels and leaves the bookshop, whose shelves are practically shaking amusingly at her retreat.


End file.
